


Reappearance at Dusk

by everythingmurky



Series: Valley of the Shadow [3]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Case Fic, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-27 05:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12574380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingmurky/pseuds/everythingmurky
Summary: Hardy faces a medical dismissal, but he may be the only one who can figure out the tangled mess of the past coming after his replacement, assuming his heart and the PTSD don't kill him first.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did a lot of thinking about how a) I needed to finish the one story and still can't and b) how I should but can't or won't fix Tourist Season and c) how I can't allow myself to do that sequel.
> 
> So I came back to this, as I did give myself a way to do a third one in who I borrowed to act as Hardy's stand in for the rest of the case in Losing the Light.

* * *

“Would you quit fidgeting?” Ellie asked, annoyed and only part wishing she had it in her to be nicer about it. She didn't, not as stressed as she was now. She couldn't help feeling nervous, not sure what it would mean if they decided against Hardy. If they chose to medical him out, not only would she either have to face the detective inspector position or whoever else they gave it to, but she'd also have to worry about what that man might do if he was left without his job. He was a policeman, through and through, and even Daisy wouldn't be enough to keep him going if they did deal that blow. 

“You'd think you were the one facing dismissal, not Hardy.”

Troy winced, forcing himself still for a moment. He leaned over the desk, taking a few deep breaths before he spoke. “I'm sorry.”

That she wasn't used to. Hardy didn't apologize for anything. This DI had thousands of things he apologized for, but the worst by far was his driving. That deserved more than an apology.

“What's with you, anyway? I thought you weren't worried about staying or going,” she said, frowning. “Were you lying about that? Do you need this job?'

Troy shook his head. “I told you. It was always temporary, though I did get the sense with the CS that she'd like me to stay on instead of Hardy. Something tells me they don't get on.”

Ellie almost smiled. “I'm glad you picked up on the subtleties there, detective.”

He gave her a halfhearted smile. He was trying to be funny again, then. “I know they've got tension. I know he wants to pursue his daughter's case, but your CS doesn't. I also know that she had doubts about him before his collapse. I'm not sure why she still wants me here when I went to CPS instead of dropping the case like she seemed to want, but she did hint around the spot was mine if I wanted it.”

Ellie nodded. She'd figured as much. It always went to the bloody men first, didn't it? Not that she blamed Troy. This wasn't his doing. He hadn't asked to be pulled into this mess, and he'd done all right by the case and Hardy so far. He'd been willing to admit his limits, and she liked that about him, even if he wasn't the cranky wanker of a boss she'd gotten used to and somehow preferred.

“Seriously, though,” she said when she got him pacing again. “What is with you? You haven't stopped moving since you came in the room, and it's driving me barmy.”

He froze, grimacing. “I didn't—you ever have one of those moments where you bump into someone and you know you know them, but you can't remember how or why?” 

Ellie did, but then she lived in a small town. “In Broadchurch, I know a lot of people. Nearly everyone, it sometimes seems, and even more so after my husband turned out to be a killer.”

Troy shook his head. “No, this was different. I shouldn't know anyone here, not outside the station or connected to the case, and yet I swear that man that bumped me on the street was someone I knew from somewhere else. He didn't belong here. I'd swear it, but I don't know where he does belong. He just gave me this look... it's been bothering me ever since.”

Ellie had noticed. She had definitely noticed. “I need you not to fidget, though. I'm stressing enough over what they'll decide about Hardy without you doing that.”

“I'm sorry. It doesn't help that my knee has stiffened up again. I should remember I'm not young enough to chase cars anymore.”

“You were fit enough to chase cars?”

He shrugged. “My DI definitely left it to me to do all the running.”

Ellie started to say something else to that, but then Troy's mobile rang, and she watched him answer it with a bit of relief. Maybe now he'd stay still—and they'd both be distracted from waiting for word on Hardy.

Though... if it was another case, it was not so good.

“Troy.” His smile then got wide. Ellie might just have something to tease him about later. “Cully. It's good to hear from you. It's been... an age, at least. How are you doing? Please don't tell me you have another boyfriend that wants to shadow me for a role. No, I knew—I was at the wedding—no, no one told me that. Damn, I'm sorry.”

Ellie frowned, not sure what to make of the emotions going through Troy's face just then.

“He's what? No, I haven't heard from him, not for a long while.” Troy paused. “No, a long while. At least as long as you've been divorced, since I didn't know about that until just now. Normally your mother keeps me informed, but she hasn't said much of late, either. No, you're right. I did get that invitation, but I was working. Yes, that is very much what he'd say. I'm sure you're sick to death of hearing it. I swear if I hear from him, I'll let you know.”

Troy hung up, looking more distressed than before.

“Bad news?”

“Uh... well... I'm not sure,” Troy said. “That was my DI's daughter. She says her mother went to visit her grandmother and her father was taking a holiday by himself in the meanwhile, but he hasn't contacted either of them. They were starting to get a bit worried, so they asked if I'd had word.”

“And you haven't?”

“No, but it's not that unusual. We've sort of fallen out of touch,” Troy admitted. “I got busy with my own cases, I wasn't sure he wanted to hear about them, and I didn't think Mrs. Barnaby did, either. She was enjoying having him retired, since he was rarely home before and she put up with a lot as a copper's wife. Should have heard her stories about how they got married... or what happened when they tried to renew their vows.”

“Was he the sort to be out of contact?”

“No, not when I worked with him. If he was, something tended to be wrong, because he lived for his cases. His retirement came as a bit of a shock, I admit.”

“Are you worried?”

“I don't know. Maybe. A bit. It's not like the man I knew, but then he was a workaholic back then. Since he retired, I suppose it's less likely he'd have reason to be out of reach, but I'm not in that close of contact with him to begin with.”

Ellie nodded. She wasn't sure what she'd do in retirement herself, and while she'd been giving some thought to Hardy's reaction to it lately, she didn't want to see it. They had better not medical him out. Not when he'd go insane without this job.

* * *

“Ach,” Hardy said, stopping just inside the door to his office. “What is this? Bloody vultures?”

Miller had her usual seat in it, and while Tony hadn't stolen Hardy's desk, he was standing behind it like he had some right to be there, which wasn't true, no matter what the CS said. Until the doctors forced him out, that desk was still his.

He didn't have the strength to fight for it, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

“Uh, no,” Troy said. “Though I do need to know if I'm supposed to stay on a bit or not, but I'm not—I am not waiting here to swoop in and steal your job. I've still got my own, even if I think my DS hates me and my lease is almost up.”

“Did they tell you anything?” Miller asked, and Hardy turned to her with a frown. “The doctors. Any sign of what they're going to recommend?”

He shook his head. “They weren't willing to tell me, and last time I could see it on their faces. This time... not so much. Doubt it's good, but I already knew that.”

He went around past Troy and took his chair. “You can't tell me there was nothing left to do on any of the cases, no new crimes even if this is a bloody rural office.”

Troy snorted. “If you'd seen the kind of stuff I did working in a 'rural' office, you wouldn't say that at all.”

“Oh?”

“Badger's Drift, to name but one,” Tony said, and Hardy frowned. “I was only a DS back then, but yes, I worked that one and a lot of others under Barnaby that were like that. Decapitations, people getting stabbed by pitchforks, shot with arrows... Seemed like we always had a murder or three out of that office. It was actually quieter when I transferred to a city.”

Hardy grunted. “And you're thinking you want to move here?”

“I didn't say that. Well, it's nice enough, and I don't mind working with DS Miller, but I didn't come here looking for your job.” Tony turned to Miller. “Would you excuse me? I think I'm going to give Barnaby's cousin a quick ring, see if he knows anything. I'm sure Cully spoke to him, but I can't stop my mind going over the worst of things.”

Miller nodded, and Tony left the room then. Hardy braced himself for a lecture, but it didn't come. He studied her.

“Out with it.”

“His former DI might be in trouble, but he doesn't know much,” Miller said. “He just spoke to the daughter and found out that the man's been out of reach while on holiday, which could be nothing, but he was already rattled after bumping into someone he thought he knew but couldn't place on his way in today.”

“He knows someone in Broadchurch?”

“No, and that's what's bothering him. He shouldn't know anyone here at all, excepting us what he met while he was here,” Miller said. She shrugged. “I think we're out him for the rest of the day, not that we have a case. We just need them to make up their bloody minds about you.”

“Not sure I want them to rush it. Last time they did, Jenkinson was in my office asking me why I took this job and telling me I had less than a day.”

“At least this time we finished the case first,” Miller said. “Not that I'm okay with how that turned out—Tamworth, my god, I still can't get over that one—and I still want to smack that smug little shit. I hate knowing we were lucky, that it could have been worse.”

Hardy didn't like it any more than she did. He bloody well hated it, and the nightmares he'd had since the arrest hadn't helped any. He could still picture the one from the night before, where they'd been at the river, but Tony wasn't there, just Hardy and Miller, and Joe had hit her, knocking her out for Tamworth to find as a gift while Hardy had to fend off the other pervert.

He never wanted that one back, but as it was one of the worst he'd had yet, he doubted it would go away any time soon.

“How's Daisy?”

Hardy took out his phone. “She says she's fine back at school and she'll get her phone taken away if she keeps texting me updates.”

Miller smiled. “That's good.”

“I'm not waiting here for word,” Hardy decided, getting back up from the chair. “They want me, they'll have to find me.”

“That's not a good idea.”

“Shut up, Miller.”

* * *

Gavin looked down at the text, shaking his head. He had a feeling he'd gotten word before the others, and he didn't like it. He didn't like getting it by text, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be there when Hardy got the news anyway.

_Need you to stay at least a week until position filled. Feel free to rent a better room._

He grimaced, shaking his head. He didn't want to stay, not now. Not after meeting Hardy, not after the phone call from Cully. Gavin would rather be out there looking for Barnaby, not here in Broadchurch taking the job no one wanted him to have.

He shook his head as he walked back toward the inn. It had gotten dark faster than he'd expected, and though he'd spent much longer on the phone with Barnaby's cousin than he'd planned. He blamed at least part of that on the other man, who'd decided for some random reason to involve Gavin in his latest case, using him as a sounding board as his current DS had left on holiday before the case started.

That one was rather twisted, and Gavin was glad he hadn't seen it in person.

He stopped on the walk, tempted to go down to the beach. He could use some time to clear his head again, and the cool air near the water might be the right dose of reality he needed. He started down to the path, wondering if it was the weather or just the time of day that had emptied the sands of almost everyone.

He didn't mind being alone. His mind was too full, and he felt like he was lost in many ways. He shouldn't be here, but he was, and he had to find a way to be at peace with that and all he'd learned from Cully.

He'd thought she seemed happy with her husband last time he'd seen her—at the wedding—but she was divorced now, and that was a bit of a shock, something he needed time to process. Not that it mattered, those moments they'd once had, but they came to him anyway as he thought about her, always would, he figured.

What worried him, though, was Barnaby. It wasn't like the man not to call anyone, not even when he was supposed to be resting or on holiday, though that usually was because of a case, and now that Barnaby was retired, he didn't have cases.

He stopped by the water's edge, looking out, trying to tell himself Barnaby was probably fine. Maybe it was motor trouble. This would all seem like a silly batch of nerves tomorrow.

He saw the reflection on the water shift, and he frowned a moment before something hit the back of his head, hard, and he fell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to put this warning out... I've decided in a fit of complete insanity to do Nano this year. I mention this mostly because I... well, I figured I'd try an exercise in doing a story no one saw and how bad that might go or not go, but as I'm trying to figure out some things and improve myself as a person/writer, I will be giving the Nano story (this is not it) priority, which may mean delays in updating this story, since I really will want to succeed at Nano or destroy even more of my confidence, which I'm hoping to work on by doing it.
> 
> I am hoping I'll have time to do updates for both. I just can't promise anything, as work seems to be trying to kill me lately.

* * *

_He struggled, twisting and turning as he tried to free himself. He was caught, trapped, with clothes and flesh tearing, coming apart. He was being torn. He could feel it. The pain was everywhere. The air stung, cuts burning all along his skin._

_No, he was wet. He was sinking, drowning. He was going under, unable to swim, something pulling him deeper under the depths. He couldn't breathe. He had to get above the water, but it was like his feet were caught in something that wanted to keep dragging him down._

_His head throbbed, and his chest was too tight, but the air was cold._

_He wasn't under the water._

_He didn't understand. It didn't make sense. Something was wrong._

_He was dying._

* * *

Cully stood at the window, looking out at the lawn, her phone in her hand. She didn't know who else to call now, having run through all of her father's former assistants and his cousin. She should have found someone who had word of him by now. Or he should have called or shown up, telling them all they needn't have fussed.

She supposed she was the only one fussing. Her mother wasn't, not yet. She said her father was probably enjoying his holiday and they shouldn't bother him. They shouldn't worry.

To be perfectly honest, Cully had been worried about her father ever since he retired. She'd always known him as a cop, to have a case be more important than most things in his life—including her and her mother. Her mother accepted it, mostly quite well, though Cully hadn't understood what it was like for her at first.

She'd thought she understood it, and she'd thought she could cope with it as well, when Simon left on his projects, but she'd found herself mistaken. Perhaps she should have given into all those fears and the doubts she'd had before the wedding. She wouldn't be here now if she had.

She shook that off. Last thing she needed was to start thinking about her divorce. She supposed it had always been coming, though they had been happy for a time, and she had genuinely loved him, or thought she had, which was close enough. Not to make a marriage work, no, but to make her think she wanted it, yes.

She checked her phone again. No calls.

She sighed, hitting the button to ring Gavin again. She wasn't sure why—he had said he wasn't in touch with her father, and she didn't doubt that, since he'd fumbled and said something about a boyfriend when he had, in fact, been at her wedding. She was surprised to hear her parents hadn't told him about the divorce—her mother chatted with everyone, and she'd always liked Troy.  
She heard Gavin's voice saying to leave a message, and she grimaced, ending the call. She didn't need to leave another message.

She shook her head, deciding to try a bit of tea while she thought of something else to do.

Her mobile rang, and she looked down, thinking Gavin must be ringing her back, but it wasn't his number.

“Hello?”

“Cully?”

She was both relieved and disappointed. Her father's cousin, finally. “I didn't recognize the number.”

“A suspect got hold of my phone and drowned it in the river thinking it would allow him to escape,” he told her. “My new DS loaned me his after the messages from home were passed on. You said Tom's missing?”

“Mom's doing her best not to think so, but none of us have heard from him in days. I tried ringing his friends and his assistants to see if anyone else has heard from him, and no one has.”

“I'm afraid I haven't heard from him for over a week now, though that's not unusual. We're not that close.”

“I don't know what to do,” Cully admitted. “It may be nothing, and I've no proof anything happened to Dad, but he did make plenty of enemies before he retired. Even if he didn't, he went off on his own. Suppose he hurt himself and can't get help. Or am I being ridiculously paranoid?”

“I don't know. You are correct in that he did make enemies. His were no small shoes to fill. I have little experience to judge whether you inherited your father's instincts or not, but you were not the only one concerned.”

“What?”

“I heard from Gavin Troy, too,” John said. “He's down in Dorset, was concerned he was too far away to help if there was a problem, but he asked if there was anything I could do.”

“Gavin doesn't have any real reason to worry besides my fears,” Cully said. “Though... I haven't been able to reach him. When was it you said you heard from him?”

“I think that message was from yesterday. I'll double check with Sarah.”

“Nothing since then?”

“Not that I know of,” John said, sounding a bit distant. “I'll check with the local office down in Dorset. Perhaps Troy's mobile suffered a similar fate to mine... though he did say he wasn't actually on a case at the time, just waiting for word on if he was needed in Dorset for longer.”

Cully nodded, remembering Gavin saying something similar in a text after they got off the call. “He offered to stop in on his way back if he was coming, but I haven't heard from him since then.”

“Cully,” her father's cousin began, “I am starting to fear you're not paranoid at all.”

“You think...” Cully swallowed, hoping she was wrong about this, that she was taking John's words the wrong way. “Someone is after both of them?”

“It is possible.”

* * *

“Don't bother, Miller.”

Ellie knew it wouldn't be any good to tell Hardy any platitudes. They'd gone and done the last thing they should have if they had decency in them, but she knew that it wasn't about what was right for Hardy—though they might even think that it was the best thing for him, bastards. His heart wasn't the problem.

The PTSD was his real problem. What he'd gone through at Joe's hands was still affecting him, and it wouldn't stop just because they took his job away. It would only make him internalize more of it. He would have no distraction, no outlet. No means of restoring his lost pride and confidence.

This would destroy him if if they weren't careful, and she refused to let it happen.

“I won't tell you it should be fine,” Ellie began instead. “I will tell you that I won't let you give up because of a few idiots. We discussed it before, didn't we? Former detective's club. We'll get you other cases if we have to, but you're not done. Not yet.”

“Go away, Miller.”

She shook her head. She had no intention of that. “I'm not letting you stew, even if you seem to like that—and your tea that way, it's bloody awful that you do. You know you can't let them win. I've never known you to be that sort of man. You are too stubborn for that.”

He grimaced. “Don't bother. You know that's not what I am.”

“You were traumatized. That's undeniable. That didn't stop you from working before, and it didn't stop you from finding Trish's rapist. Your heart didn't stop you from finding Danny's killer or finishing the case.”

“That doesn't mean I want you spouting encouragement at me now. I don't.”

“Fine, Be angry. That's good, too. You could do with a bit of anger,” she told him, and he glared at her. “If we still had a suspect in custody, I'd be telling you to stoke it. We don't, but that doesn't mean I think you shouldn't fight this. So what if they say you're not capable of it. They're bloody wrong, and you can prove it for the rest of your life.”

“They told me the teaching position was still open.”

“God, what a nightmare. You'd turn anyone off this job,” Ellie muttered. “Come on. I think you could do with a bit of proper tea. We'll find you a case after that.”

“Shut up, Miller.”

She grimaced, knowing that she had no choice but to use the best if not the only leverage she had over him. “Daisy will worry about you. About what you'll do if you're not working. You know you need something. Telling her you'll do it privately is a start.”

“Bloody hell,” Hardy said. “Tess gets word of this...”

Ellie winced. That would not be good. “We'll get you a client before she can even start to protest it. You have to know someone who can pass along names or something—I don't really know of much here—Oh, but Troy would know someone. He's had plenty of experience, from the sound of it.”

“Aye, so he said.”

“He was good at helping with the case,” Ellie said. “I'm not saying I want him replacing you, but we could have had things much worse. We could have had another Harford or someone who really wanted your job and undermined you at every turn, one who sabotaged your daughter's case because that's what the CS wanted.”

“Fine.”

She took out her phone and rang Troy's number, frowning when he didn't answer. She knew he had to have heard by now. She didn't think he would have avoided it, and it was strange he'd dodge her call when he'd said he didn't even want the job.

“He's not answering.”

Hardy just snorted.

* * *

“Here. Tea.”

Hardy grunted, taking the cup from Miller. He wanted to go destroy something when he got the news. He didn't have evidence to bargain with, no extending his stay this time. He was done, and it was over. He'd been trying to accept it since he got the news, but it wasn't working. Miller's attempts to cheer him and steer him toward private work didn't change anything. He was still angry and useless. None of that had changed.

He couldn't keep his job, and without it...

He didn't know what he'd do. Tess would fight him for Daisy, and Daisy wouldn't want to go. This would get ugly, but he'd known it was as soon as he saw those bloody pictures.

The thought of them nauseated Hardy again, and he found himself hearing Miller's voice even if she hadn't spoken, demanding to know when the last time was he'd eaten. He didn't know, and he didn't want anything now.

He needed to regain his appetite, but being medicalled out didn't do anything to aid it. He didn't have the fight Miller thought he did. He didn't know what to do. He'd wanted to break things, throw them about and wreck the house, but this wasn't just his home. It was Daisy's, and how the bloody hell did he explain it to her? Or replace anything he'd broken?

He didn't have a job. He could take that bloody awful teaching one again if he wanted to die slowly, but he'd already tried it once and hated it.

He didn't know why he hadn't heard from Tess yet, but that was coming. That fight would be on his door any minute now, and he wasn't ready for it.

He felt almost like he was back with Joe Miller—that same, sick sense of being trapped with no way out, nowhere to go, completely at the mercy of circumstances. He knew it wasn't true. Miller had given him options, but they had very little appeal.

What was a man who'd been a cop all his life and suddenly wasn't anymore?

Hardy had no bloody clue.

“Still nothing from Troy,” Miller said, frowning as she checked her phone again. “Strange. I'd have thought he'd at least answer my text about his DI even if he didn't want to discuss the job.”

“Oh, leave it, Miller,” Hardy muttered. He didn't care what Tony had to say about it. “Go home.”

“What are you going to do if I leave?” Miller asked. “Sit around here and mope? Daisy's with Chloe, so you'd be alone.”

“I'll be fine.”

“You're a lying knob is what you are.” She shook her head. “I don't know what I'm going to do with you, but I do know you're not going to sit about here on your own.”

Hardy shook his head, annoyed. “Go on. I'll shove you out the bloody door myself. Go pester Beth Latimer or see how Trish Winterman's doing. Hell, you could even pretend to be nice to Hartford just to irritate her. Or see your own bloody children. Leave me be.”

She started to protest again but then her phone rang. She frowned, answering it. “This is Ellie. What do you need, Bob?”

Hardy grimaced, preparing himself to rise so he could leave. He didn't need to hear this. He didn't want the additional insult of hearing her called back to work.

“What?” Miller's face had gone white. “You're sure? Is he... dead?”

Hardy frowned, interested against his will. He should have left faster. He'd want to know more, and he couldn't. He was being invalided out. He was done.

“No, I'm on my way,” Miller said, ending the call.

Hardy didn't manage to restrain himself. “What is it?”

“It's Troy,” she whispered. “They found him down by the beach.”


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Nigel walked along the beach, thinking about the last few days. Mark had made him swear not to do anything else in the town, and he'd stuck to it, but he didn't know what else he could do. He still wanted to help Mark, as the man was a bit of a brother or maybe a father—a friend, at least—but he couldn't even get more work for Mark now.

He felt almost like he should move on. His mom was gone now—both the real one, the one he'd grown up with—and that liar, Susan Wright, and he had nothing left.

Except her damned dog.

She'd given it to him before she died, and he didn't know why he'd kept it. He wasn't much for dogs, and he still hated her, not just for what she'd said about who he was about but for what she'd done at the trial, accusing him of being part of murdering Danny.

Still, he had the dog, and it had been useful a few times. He'd let it do some of the vandal work, and no one connected it to him, not before Mark had confronted him.

He shook his head, looking around for the dog again. Damned thing had run off again. He called out to it, running up the beach away, past the section where the public went and over by the cliff fall. Stupid dog, going right where it shouldn't.

It was gonna get them both killed.

“Where the hell are you?” Nigel demanded, and it barked at him. “Get over here. Now.”

The dog didn't move, just kept whining at him. He swore again as he ran over to where it was, just around some rocks, and he stopped.

No.

This could not be real. Susan Wright found a body with her dog. Not Nigel. Not him. He wanted no part of this. They'd say he did it, and he hadn't done anything.

He edged closer, needing to know if the man was real, if this was actually happening. A part of him wanted it to be rags, but though the clothes were torn up, they covered some parts of a man. His head was bloodied, and had he not gotten caught on the rocks, he would have washed out to sea.

Nigel went to check the man's pulse, and he heard a low moan.

Bloody hell.

The bastard wasn't dead.

* * *

“What do we know?”

Miller would kill them both with her driving, frantic as it was. One would think she was off to catch the rapist again, or perhaps Joe Miller, were he not already locked away where he supposedly could do no harm. Hardy had to get her to focus, fast, as his traitorous heart had already started up again, a tightness in his chest worsening with every turn.

“Not much,” Miller admitted. “Bob said he was found down by the beach—in the cliff fall—and from the first looks of it, he was dead. An ambulance was called, and he's at the hospital now. No word on his condition yet.”

“That's it?”

Miller sighed. “His wallet's missing, so's his mobile, and they didn't know who they'd found at first, at least not before Bob got on scene and told them it was Troy.”

Hardy grunted. At least he'd made himself known among the locals, even if it was because they all hated him. Or maybe Karen White and her bloody papers were to blame for that. They all blamed him for Sandbrook.

“What else? Who found him?”

“Nige Carter, walking his dog.”

“You're bloody joking.”

Miller shook her head. “I wish. It's Susan Wright's dog, even, he got it when she died.”

Hardy didn't know what to think of that. It was odd, sure enough, but he didn't want to think about what had possessed Carter to keep the dog or what he did with it now that it was his. “Where was Troy found?”

“Bloody hell, don't tell me you're going to accuse him of suicide now,” Miller muttered. “We both saw him. He didn't want your job, but you were too busy grousing to pay attention to that part.”

“He was upset.”

“Because his former DI was missing. He was looking into that. There is no way he would have gone off and jumped off a bloody cliff before he knew what happened.”

Hardy preferred her angry and irritating and thinking. As much as it shouldn't have, it calmed down her driving, making her take the turns with more care as she thought about the case instead of her fear. Anger gave her purpose. He needed her to have focus.

“Some other idiot is going to think it was a robbery.”

Miller nodded. “His wallet and his phone were gone. It would be a natural assumption.”

“For anyone else, Miller. You know better than that.”

She frowned. “We don't know what it was. They're not even sure it wasn't an accident yet. They figure Troy's not local, he wandered past the public area, got himself caught by a cliff fall—”

“Oh, come on, Miller. Think.”

“I _am_ thinking,” she snapped. “We don't know much yet. We've got no proof it wasn't an accident. He could have been distracted by the thought of his DI being missing and gotten in a bad place. If it was late enough, he might not have known—”

“His DI goes missing, he hears about it, and then he has an accident? Just like that? No. It's too much of a coincidence,” Hardy said. “Don't like it.”

“It doesn't have to be connected,” Miller protested, and Hardy gave her a look. “All right, we both think it probably is. I'm not saying for sure that it isn't, just that there are other possibilities. You went to one first—a suicide.”

“I never actually said that.”

“It could be an accident. Or a robbery if he was attacked. They'll probably be disappointed, choosing him, but we don't know it was about his missing DI.”

“What was the name of the DI?” Hardy asked, ignoring her last statement. He wanted to disprove that first of all. “Come on, Miller. I know you know it. You were with Troy more than I was. What did he call this DI?”

“Barnaby.”

“Good. Find out everything you can about the DI. If it is connected to whatever happened to Troy, it's likely it's a case they worked together. One where someone made threats, one where they were just released. There's an answer there.”

Miller nodded. “I already planned to look into it, starting with talking to Barnaby's daughter, the one that put him onto the disappearance. After we get done here.”

Hardy looked over at the hospital with a grimace. That was the last place he wanted to be. “What happens when the CS reminds you I'm not supposed to be on this case?”

Miller reached for the door handle. “You're not officially out yet, and as the ranking officer around here who's not in a hospital bed, this _is_ your case.”

* * *

“Christ, he's a mess,” Ellie said, wincing as she took in Troy's state. The bandage around his head could make it worse than it was, but then she'd heard that Nige and had thought he was dead at first, so she doubted it was. She could see more bruises forming around the exposed parts of his body. Whatever happened, he'd taken one hell of a beating.

“What do we know?” Hardy asked, clearly uncomfortable back at the hospital. “You talk to any of the doctors yet?”

She gave him a look. They'd walked in together. When the hell had she had time for that? Yes, she'd wanted to call in and ask about Troy's condition, but there hadn't been time with Bob's call and Hardy talking all the way to the hospital.

“Where are they? And where are the PCs that should be here? We need someone here.”

“I'm aware of that,” Ellie said, trying to control her temper. She didn't need Hardy telling her every move she should make, even if she did want to keep him on this case. “It's not my first day on the job. If you give me a second, I'll find his doctor.”

“We need to know what he knows.”

Ellie winced, looking back at Troy. “And if he doesn't wake up?”

“Someone has to tell us what went on at that beach.”

“SOCO's at the scene,” Ellie said, since that was one of the reports she had gotten. Brian was angry, having to do another beach scene where the sand was everywhere. They didn't even know for sure where it had all happened.

“Excuse me,” a man interrupted them, and Ellie turned to see a doctor that she didn't recognize standing there. “What are you doing in this room?”

She took out her identification, aware of Hardy doing the same. She didn't want to think about it being the last time he did it even if she knew he only had it now because he'd refused to wait in the office for his discharge.

“Detective Inspector Troy was working with us,” Ellie said. “We need to know his condition and as much as you can tell us about what happened to him.”

The doctor frowned. “I don't know what happened to him. That's not my job.”

“You're a doctor,” Hardy snapped. “You telling us you can't tell us what happened to his head? Or that bruise there. I can see it. Does that mean his ribs are broken or not? What about his legs? Were his legs broken? Did any of the damage come from a fall or a crush? You know the difference between those types of injuries, don't you?”

The doctor glared at him. Ellie tried not to wince. Hardy was not known as a diplomat, and none of this should surprise her, but she hadn't prepared for it, either.

“We do need to know if Troy will live and if there is any sign his injuries were not caused by any accident. Or...I suppose we need to know if it is possible it was due to a fall, intentional or otherwise,” Ellie said, keeping her voice firm but kinder than Hardy's. “At least his condition. That we have to know.”

“Most of the injuries were remarkably superficial,” the doctor finally said. “The bruising, while extensive, didn't cause any internal injuries. None of the scrapes or cuts is deep, though they've all been cleaned. His ankle was fractured, looks like a bit of a twist, and some ribs were cracked. The greatest concern at this point is the injuries to his head. He took multiple blows, one to the front and one to the rear, and between them, they've created swelling in his brain. We may have to operate to alleviate it if the oxygen and iv can't bring it down.”

“Lord,” Ellie whispered, knowing this wasn't good.

“He's suffered a traumatic brain injury,” the doctor said. “There is also a chance of permanent damage and loss of memory.”

“Damn it,” Hardy muttered. Ellie knew they'd have a hard enough time with this case if they didn't have Troy to help narrow things down and tell them what happened to him, but they'd still work it. Hardy was up against another deadline, but they still had to try.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Ellie told him. She turned to Hardy. “We can't do much here.”

“Aye,” Hardy agreed. “Let's go.”

* * *

“Bloody hell,” Miller muttered, and Hardy gave her a look over his desk. “Have you seen this, sir? Troy wasn't exaggerating. All these deaths. Midsomer seems to have more crime than London, with one murder following another and another in almost every case. How does that make any sense?”

“Some of them do think they can get away with one murder by another, not that really works,” Hardy said. He rubbed his forehead. “Murders all this Barnaby did?”

“Well, no, not at first. He did the same thing we all did in rising the ranks, from PC on up, but if we're basing our search on the reasonable assumption that it has something to do with a case he worked with Troy, then we're talking almost all murders, yes. Barnaby was DCI by then, and he was the one to get most if not all the murder cases out of Causton. Troy assisted him for over seven years until his promotion to DI and move to Newcastle.”

Hardy accepted that information, nodding as he thought aloud. “How many of those cases ended with an arrest and conviction?”

Miller gave him a look. “You expect me to pull up all of those records in an instant and read them over like some bloody machine?”

Hardy grunted. “The search should tell you if the case was closed or not.”

“I'm working on it, but there is a lot to sort through even with search filters,” she grumbled. “We're going to need someone close to Barnaby or Troy that could help us narrow it down or a lot of help from our own office—”

“Which we don't have,” Hardy said. “The CS won't give me anyone.”

“Yes, but that doesn't mean we can't have someone searching through records. We need the CCTV reviewed, too. We should have uniform conduct a canvas of the area near the beach to see if anyone heard or saw anything. We need to build a timeline of where Troy was and what he was doing prior to whatever happened last night. We need all of that.”

“Your point, Miller?” Hardy bit out. He was aware they had little time and no resources. She would be allowed to stay and pursue this, but he would lose his credentials soon. The CS would order him out of the office.

“I'm just saying we need time and help,” Miller said. “I've done some research, but you haven't touched your computer.”

He eyed it warily. “It's not mine, is it?”

“It is for now.”

He shook his head. He didn't even want to start. “They've probably locked me out of it already. Give those tasks to some idiot here who can afford to waste time summarizing them for us. You and I have a scene to visit.”

“You think that place is going to tell you anything?”

“Won't know until I look,” Hardy said, though if he was honest about it, half the reason he wanted to go was so he wouldn't be here when they came to usher him out. He refused to let that happen in public.

Hardy pulled on his coat and opened the door. He had just stepped out when he noticed the blonde on the other side of the room. Miller bumped into his back as he tried to understand what the hell this woman was doing here. She better not be a part of their last case. Not another victim.

He felt his stomach turn at the thought.

“Excuse me,” she began. “I'm looking for Gavin Troy.”


End file.
